Happy New Year
by this-bright-eyed-soul
Summary: Harry is too worried about the war to be down in the common room celebrating the new year with his housemates. Perhaps it was just as well he was alone when Voldemort accidentally slipped into Harry's mind. A very short little dirty thing to celebrate the new year


**This is just a naughty little thing I threw together to celebrate the coming of 2017 - hope you enjoy!**

"Shitty new year," Harry mumbled to himself as the clock struck 12.

The dorm was empty, as all of the Gryffindors were down in the common room, celebrating the new year with alcohol and drunken snogging. Harry, of course, with the threat of Voldemort looming above his head at all times, didn't quite feel like celebrating. Hermione had given him an understanding smile, but Ron was a bit baffled that Harry didn't want the excuse of a party to take a break from worrying. That was the thing though, he was always worrying. After so many deaths, he was constantly waiting for the next, and the next, until all the people who loved and cared for him had died and he would finally be alone to face Voldemort.

On cue, he felt a sting in his scar, praying to the gods that he wouldn't be on the receiving end of another vision.

But he wasn't.

For once, a sting in his scar did not result in a vision of Voldemort torturing muggleborns or threatening the people he knew. Instead, something completely unprecedented happened. Somehow he just knew that instead of being inside of Voldemort's head, Voldemort was inside of his head.

He supposed he should have been completely horrified by such a thing, scared out of his wits, he should have gone running to Dumbledore or even Snape for help to get the creature out of his head, but all he felt was calm. Besides, maybe it would be better if Voldemort just couldn't find anything interesting and left Harry's head sooner. From what he could tell, though, Voldemort hadn't meant to turn up in Harry's mind at all, probably expecting the usual to happen.

After a moment of stunned silence from the both of them, Voldemort spoke.

 _Shitty new year to you too, Potter,_ he commented lightly.

If Harry didn't know better, he would have been able to convince himself that actually he'd got it wrong, that it was not Voldemort in his head, just some other wizard who messed up a bit of mind magic and ended up in the mind of a famous school boy. But Harry did know better. This smooth, baritone voice in his head is exactly what Lord Voldemort would have sounded like if he'd remained as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

 _If you speak so much like a snake, how come you don't think like a snake?_ Harry felt himself enquiring immediately, without having the ability to think it over before Voldemort was able to hear it.

There was another moment of slightly less stunned silent.

 _You know, Potter, sometimes I think that even if it weren't for the prophecy, I would still want you dead more than anyone on Earth._ Came the clipped response, again in that deeper, more human voice.

 _And I bet I'd still be able to slip through your fingers every time you found me,_ Harry quipped back, and quickly started to wish he'd thrown himself into the veil along with Sirius back when he had the chance, because that death truly would be much more merciful than the one Voldemort would be planning for him judging by the sharp pain in his scar.

 _I am surprised that you have such a death wish at such a young age._

 _Well, you're out to get me either way, what harm can it do to tease an older man such as yourself? I'm sure you need a bit of keeping on your toes to stop your brain from going dead!_ Harry responded lightly, which was followed by a pause on his part, and then a quick succession of swear words when he realised again what he was saying to the Dark Lord.

 _I mean, your mind does seem to be in pretty good shape, having said that_ Harry thought, desperately trying to cover his own arse for what his was thinking. _Your internal voice is pretty hot so you can't be aging that badly_ -

And he fucked it up again. Big time. Because he had just called Voldemort hot.

 _Fuck_. Was Harry's only thought in response to his last words, and focused on trying to keep his mind clear.

 _You have a very active mind, Harry_ , Voldemort suddenly purred in his head, and Harry could barely breathe at the sensual feeling of it.

He had fucked up really badly now. Voldemort was going to use this against him and there would be no escape.

 _Don't be shy, Harry,_ Voldemort purred again, the use of his first name sending shivers through Harry's whole body. _Do show me what else this active mind of yours comes up with._

 _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck, fuck fuck._

 _Is that a cuss or a request, Harry?_ Voldemort laughed, and Harry felt his whole face heat up. _Because if it's the latter, I'm afraid I shall have to decline_.

And before Harry could stop it there was the flash of an image.

He had no idea where the image had come from.

He did not want to know what part of his mind was capable of creating such images.

But it had completely snuck past his defences for only a moment, and a moment had been long enough; from the hints of perverted arousal in that moment from both his own mind and Voldemort's, he knew that they had both seen the flash of Voldemort bending Harry over a desk and fucking him.

 _Oh god,_ he thought, because it was completely too late. There was no taking it back or pretending it had never come across.

 _My goodness, Harry_ , came Voldemort's sultry voice inside his head. _A very vivid imagination you have there. Make yourself comfortable under the covers, Harry, it'll be our dirty little secret. Do continue that little fantasy of yours._

When Harry didn't move, didn't think, he was suddenly assaulted by a much stronger image that he knew was not his own.

Voldemort was suddenly stood behind him, trailing harsh kisses up his neck and jawline, before biting Harry's ear sensually. _Get into your bed,_ came the soft, but authoritative instruction, in that same soothing voice that Harry was really starting to hate for what it did to him. He nearly moaned aloud at the image, not having expected it, and it took a moment after it had left his mind for him to realise that he was now in fact in bed, and that the image had not been real.

Slowly, gently, Voldemort's voice inside his head guided Harry's hand down to his crotch, where he began to stroke it himself, barely knowing he was doing so and focused almost entirely on the pleasure of it.

Voldemort continued to murmur sweet nothings in Harry's head, occasionally praising Harry on his behaviour, and placing images so strong that they felt almost real.

Harry was barely aware of his state of being alone as he felt kisses across his neck, his collar bone, open kisses on his mouth, and a strong hand stroking his member almost lovingly, gripping at just the right points.

Harry was barely aware of the arousal that was coming through the connection between his and Voldemort's minds, indicating the mutuality of the feeling.

Harry was very aware of the fact that in the early hours of New Years day he had experienced the greatest orgasm of his life, and he would forever deny the fact that it was aided by Lord Voldemort himself.


End file.
